Songs of the Soul/Part 3
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PART III
MY NATIVE LAND
The friendly sky,
Inviting shades of banian tree,
The holy Ganges flowing by,—
How can I forget thee!
Inviting shades of banian tree,
The holy Ganges flowing by,—
How can I forget thee!
I love the waving corn
Of India’s fields so bright,
Oh, better than those Heav’nly grown
By deathless gods of might.
Of India’s fields so bright,
Oh, better than those Heav’nly grown
By deathless gods of might.
My soul’s broad love so grand
Was born here first below,—
In my own native land,
On India’s sunny soil aglow.
Was born here first below,—
In my own native land,
On India’s sunny soil aglow.
I love thy breeze,
I love thy moon,
I love thy hills and seas,
In thee I wish to cease, or swoon.
Thou taught’st me first to love
Thy sky, the stars, the God above;
So my first homage meets,
O India, at thy feet!
I love thy moon,
I love thy hills and seas,
In thee I wish to cease, or swoon.
Thou taught’st me first to love
Thy sky, the stars, the God above;
So my first homage meets,
O India, at thy feet!
From thee I now have learn’d to see,
To love all lands alike as thee;
I bow to thee, my native land,
The Mother of my love so grand.
To love all lands alike as thee;
I bow to thee, my native land,
The Mother of my love so grand.
ON COMING TO THE NEW-OLD LAND-AMERICA
Sleeping memories
Of friends once more to be
Did greet me-sailing o'er the sea,-
Sensing my coming
The Pilgrim Land to adore.
The distant sleeping shore
Lay in the twinkling night,
Dim through the vanished light,
The breeze wafted strong
Strange thoughts
That my brain did throng,
Hopes sweet and richly wrought.
Of friends once more to be
Did greet me-sailing o'er the sea,-
Sensing my coming
The Pilgrim Land to adore.
The distant sleeping shore
Lay in the twinkling night,
Dim through the vanished light,
The breeze wafted strong
Strange thoughts
That my brain did throng,
Hopes sweet and richly wrought.
The raven-winged gloom did perch
On the portals of my mind and search
My soul, my strength to awe;
Yet crowds with joy oh, then, I saw
Of phantom friends,
Now come to lend
Their cheer,
And end my fear!
On the portals of my mind and search
My soul, my strength to awe;
Yet crowds with joy oh, then, I saw
Of phantom friends,
Now come to lend
Their cheer,
And end my fear!
THE TOILER'S LAY
From school of life,
From bossy duty's binding day,
From hours of dollar-strife
I wish I were a run-away!
From bossy duty's binding day,
From hours of dollar-strife
I wish I were a run-away!
From chasing worry hound
I'll fly one day,
From crowds and throngs around
I wish I were a run-away!
I'll fly one day,
From crowds and throngs around
I wish I were a run-away!
From greedy food
That steals its way,
From luring dainties' tempting mood
I wish I were a run-away!
That steals its way,
From luring dainties' tempting mood
I wish I were a run-away!
From homely cups and chairs and couch
The call of grassy-bed today
My heart doth snatch;-
I wish I were a run-away!
From nature's given cup,
My hollow hands, I'll drink
At the streamlet's bounteous brink;
With finger forks I'll eat the meat
Of fresh plucked fruits from trees, my seat
All snug beneath the shady trees,
Enliv'n'd by birds and bumble bees,
Fanned by mothering air,-
From warmth and tear
I'll bathe my weary mind
In new-made joyous day:
Away dish-washing, cups and saucers, all away!
For just a day
I wish I were a run-away!
The call of grassy-bed today
My heart doth snatch;-
I wish I were a run-away!
From nature's given cup,
My hollow hands, I'll drink
At the streamlet's bounteous brink;
With finger forks I'll eat the meat
Of fresh plucked fruits from trees, my seat
All snug beneath the shady trees,
Enliv'n'd by birds and bumble bees,
Fanned by mothering air,-
From warmth and tear
I'll bathe my weary mind
In new-made joyous day:
Away dish-washing, cups and saucers, all away!
For just a day
I wish I were a run-away!
CITY DRUM
'Tis morn
The rolling wheels are on
Of a marching world
So strong.
The rolling wheels are on
Of a marching world
So strong.
I love to be roused
From a silent sleep
By the early hum
Of the active city drum.
From a silent sleep
By the early hum
Of the active city drum.
The drum beats
To loudly greet
All those heroes true
That would die or do,-
To meet the morning's foe
Of worry or of woe
With a dauntless smile,
And thus success beguile
Unto the happy camp
Where peace e’er burns its lamp.
The city's drum
With its noisy hum
Announces true and strong
The world is marching on.
To loudly greet
All those heroes true
That would die or do,-
To meet the morning's foe
Of worry or of woe
With a dauntless smile,
And thus success beguile
Unto the happy camp
Where peace e’er burns its lamp.
The city's drum
With its noisy hum
Announces true and strong
The world is marching on.
MOHAWK TRAIL
Welcomed by a fresh and smiling day,
Usher'd by trees benign that lay
To shade our bodies from the jealous sun,
With rubber shoes pressing on asphalt road,
With softly humming noise we rode
Through Mohawk Trail where Adam lies.
Unlike all other joyful rides
When mind with sameness was dulled sometimes
and did abide
The time and common scenes in passive mood,
My mind was now so full, bright and good.
A strange, unknown, unthought, new thrill
Did steal o'er me in soothing sweep so still.
I raced with wind and scattered smiles
That played with sunshine, spread for miles.
My secret hoarded joy in vault of soul
I extravagantly did spend withal
To buy new nature's gaudy scenes
That one hasty, racing peddler brought me in.
Usher'd by trees benign that lay
To shade our bodies from the jealous sun,
With rubber shoes pressing on asphalt road,
With softly humming noise we rode
Through Mohawk Trail where Adam lies.
Unlike all other joyful rides
When mind with sameness was dulled sometimes
and did abide
The time and common scenes in passive mood,
My mind was now so full, bright and good.
A strange, unknown, unthought, new thrill
Did steal o'er me in soothing sweep so still.
I raced with wind and scattered smiles
That played with sunshine, spread for miles.
My secret hoarded joy in vault of soul
I extravagantly did spend withal
To buy new nature's gaudy scenes
That one hasty, racing peddler brought me in.
My spirit hemm'd in city's narrow walls
Was free once more; all nature sent a joyous call:
The waving leaves of trees, the babbling rill,
The impatient wind, sober skies and hill.
Was free once more; all nature sent a joyous call:
The waving leaves of trees, the babbling rill,
The impatient wind, sober skies and hill.